Ghosts from the Past
by NightQuest
Summary: Christine never imagined it possible. Her picture-perfect life is in ruins and she now has to face a dangerous man from her past. The only thing she's sure of, is that she will never again give in to his provocative words and actions.
1. Prologue

_Hello boys and girls! I have some great news to announce, before I'll let you start with the story. I now have brand new super-awesome beta! Let's give a big round of applause for Not-the-Norm, who gave me ideas and corrected my mistakes. Also, without her, this chapter and the next one wouldn't have been born! Thank you! _

_DISCLAIMER: the site being the site for fanfictions should hint you enough, saying the characters of the Phantom of the Opera are not mine, but better safe than sorry, no? So, I do not own Phantom or Christine or any other character, you might recognise._

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_**Prologue**_

It had been almost six months now since the Viscount's death, yet she could remember it as if it were just yesterday. Even after all of this time, though, she still couldn't quite embrace the fact that he was gone. Never again would he stand next to her and lovingly take care of and provide for her, his little Lotte.

Since Raoul's death, she had little to no way of keeping track of her funds. With the de Changy's name trampled to the ground she had found foes almost everywhere and soon discovered it was smarter to use her maiden name once more. Every friendly face had either turned against her or disappeared completely as the grand old family fell apart. Now, only months after her husband's untimely death she found herself struggling to make ends meet.

She had been smart enough to grab some of the most valuable items with her, when she had escaped from the house on that horrid night, yet the money she had gotten after selling the trinkets was almost nothing next to what they were worth. She knew she was being taken advantage of, yet was unable to do anything against it. With every passing day she grew more afraid of being discovered. It was only a matter of time when they would return to find her. She had to find a place to stay and fast.

So she was force to look for a work. The new opera house had crossed her mind, but only for a fleeting moment. She had sworn to herself that she would never again step through those doors after the events that had occurred years ago. The memory of sitting in her powder room getting made up for her first act in Faust was still fresh in her mind after all of this time. She had been so excited and happy, even with the small role she had first been given. Suddenly she was reminded of him. The chill of his breath, the ice in his stare, the white of his mask... No, she would never go back to the life of an opera singer.

Little did she know, that by avoiding the opera house she was walking straight back into the past and the life of the man she had left behind.

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_You are all very welcomed to drop me a line or two, your comments feed my imagination!_

_Yours,_

_NightQuest  
_


	2. A Light at the End of Tunnel

_Hello again! Here's the first chapter. I'd like to thank all those of you, who took interest in my story and of course, my wonderful beta __Not-the-Norm_ , who has the patience and will to correct my mistakes and improve the story with her ideas.

_**Chapter 1- A Light at the End of Tunnel**_

A chill ran down her spine as Christine made her way towards the parlour through the formerly grand, yet now abandoned and eerie house of the de Changys. She pulled the blanket she was holding more tightly around her fragile form, as she sat down on the only piece of furniture intact. Sun shone through the windows and cast dancing shadows on the walls. She took up the newspaper that lay on a worn, mutilated side table near the chair she was seated upon and scanned it critically for any possible job applications. After a moment though she impatiently threw it on the ground and buried her face in her hands. There weren't any available jobs unless she wanted to be a railroad engineer or a coal miner, neither of which she was adequately fit for.

Pulling her knees under her Christine stared at the tea set placed up on the ground. The pieces were mismatched and it looked like it had been used for centuries, yet she still remembered the day she had purchased it so clearly . She smiled, remembering how Raoul had tried to persuade her not to buy the set, yet despite her husband's objections, she still had. Pretty yellow sunflowers were painted on the cups, making it hard for her to understand how anyone could not like it—to her, it had brought on feelings of cheerfulness.

She raised her eyes and sadly glanced around the room. At last, after months of absence she had finally returned to her former home. She had felt tears fill her eyes as she had stared at the once beautiful manor for the first time. Bravely she had walked through the abandoned house, seeing all the once richly furnished rooms now empty and destroyed. Only after entering Raoul's and hers former bedroom on the second floor had she broken down and cried for hours. There she had finally understood that her once tender and loving husband would never return.

Sobbing helplessly on the ground she had cursed his brother-in-law, former Count Philippe de Changy, with all her heart for bringing such unhappiness on his family and hers. She knew he had paid his debt with his life, yet she still couldn't help but blame him. Lying there on the cold floor she remembered the evening she had first heard about his death. It had been almost three years ago. She had been married only for a few months when one evening Raoul came home looking pale and shaking uncontrollably.

"He's dead!" He had shouted, his eyes gazing upon her hollowly "My brother is dead!" Then he fell on the ground mourning his lost sibling. When Christine had finally managed to calm the broken man he began to speak.

"They said it was a heart attack," he laughed bitterly. Christine sat back, scared at the sudden change in Raoul's demeanor. "I know it as them. I wasn't even allowed to see his body for Christ's sake—my own brother!" His voice rose at each word.

After a moment he was able to compose himself once again before turning to look at Christine for the first time since he had been home that night. "Don't worry, Christine. I promise everything will be alright." Then he had hugged her tightly.

She hadn't understood then what he had meant by those words, yet now it was all so clear. Not dwelling on his perplexing words, Christine was relieved that Raoul seemed to return to normal. After that night, he never mentioned the subject of his brother's death or his odd words again. Christine felt he was hiding something from her, but assumed he would share it with her when he was ready.

Feeling a bit calmer now that her small outburst of emotions had passed, Christine stood from the floor. Deciding that leaving the room would help her clear her mind, she returned downstairs systematically searching every room looking for anything that could be of some use to make a bed for her that night. Finally she had settled in the parlour, the room dearest to her. From various blankets and pillows she managed to make herself a crude bed beside the fireplace. She had tried to cleaned the room as much a possible. She could do nothing about the ripped wallpaper or curtains, though. The shards hung ominously around the room casting shadows upon the floor. The shapes slightly unnerved Christine and she quickly decided to make a fire. Old wood lay untouched by the fireplace, which Christine was thankful for. Place the wood inside the fireplace, she quickly stood and found the matchbox on the mantle where Raoul had always kept it. She knelt once more and struck a match under the wood causing it to ignite. Blowing out the match, she sat back and basked in the glowing of the orange flames. Until she found a better place to stay, her half-destroyed home would have to do.

Last week she had been forced to sell Raoul's favourite watch, which she miraculously had found from on of his desks. It had been hard giving it up, but she had had no other choice. One had to eat in order to live after all. No, the only thing left to her was her mother's hair comb. Luckily it was one of the items left intact within the house. Come what may, she would never part from her only memory of her beloved mother. She quickly dabbed her eyes as she realised they were full of unshed tears willing herself not to cry again. She had promised herself she would not cry over the past anymore.

Making up her mind Christine stood and crossed the room to a small dresser that lay against the fore wall. She quietly opened the top drawer and searched through the clothes that occupied the space. Her hand found a small bag and she pulled it out slightly disappointed by how light it felt. She flipped it over and emptied its contents on the top of the wooden dresser. Hardly any money fell from the bag; she counted it quickly. It was just enough for a few more trips to the market. After that ran out she knew not what she would do. Gathering the coins back up into the bag, she turned from the dresser searching the room. Her eyes caught sight of a small shard of mirror and she strolled over to it. Taking it within her dainty hands she tried hopelessly to fix her hair.

As she took her brush to tame her wild curls she once again remembered how she had been sitting behind a large mirror in her old dressing room getting ready for what turned out to be her last performance. Lovingly she traced the delicate flowers engraved on the simple wooden brush. She had kept her thoughts and memories of the Opera Ghost from Raoul, knowing that her attachment to the menace would most likely cause him distress and might disturb him. The Ghost had reeked havoc on the young viscount's mind and Christine often was awoken by his cries in the night over nightmares over the dark phantom.

Now after her much-loved husband's death she still sometimes thought about the Phantom often wondering what had become of him. Had he found his way out of the darkness to live a normal life or had he succumbed to madness—alone, destitute and deformed living as a creature of the night? Even though she still found it hard to admit, Christine had at one point found him mesmerising and beautiful. Or perhaps he had just brainwashed her into thinking he was a creature of beauty? Sadly she gazed out of the window. She would never know as their paths would never cross again.

Deciding a trip to the mark was in order, Christine gathered her moneybag with her and a small basket to carry her food in before leaving the house. Once outside, she felt her mind ease and she could breathe more freely. Gone was the depressing feeling which lied heavily upon her every waking moment. Smiling broadly, she walked down the road. Half a way to the market she suddenly stopped at the sight of a glorious house. She lifted her hand to her eyes trying to see the building more clearly. Her eyes scanned over the black bricks and dark mahogany shudders. Laced cream curtains blew softly from the open windows as the young woman continued to survey the fine manor. Even the garden was beautifully trimmed. Every tree seemed to be placed strategically so the picture as a whole was breathtaking.

Christine took hold of the iron bars and like a child, pushed her face between them eyes wide with wonder. She had once been a proud owner of a beautiful house with a warm husband and all the prospects of the world. Much like this house, in fact. Raoul had given her a life of wealth and happiness. Without him, she was nobody and had nothing. With a start she pulled back. There was no use of thinking about all of the things that once were or could have been. In order to keep living she knew she must keep moving forwards.

As Christine returned from buying groceries she once again passed by that huge manor she had marvelled before. This time however she saw two women who appeared to be the maids of the house standing at the gate bickering. Christine stopped and tried to listen. She noticed one of them was a girl, just a few years younger than her. With her light brown hair she looked pretty. She was gazing at her shoes, head bowed in guilt. The older woman was angrily shouting at her. She could only make out snippets of the furious speech, but she understood that the girl had done something wrong. Interested, she quietly drew closer.

With a last angry shout the older woman sent the girl away. Christine saw tears glistening in her eyes as she turned and quickly left. The young singer couldn't help the pang of pity she felt for the maid. Did she have a family to support? Was she also destitute and barely surviving? Fascinated, she made her way towards the still angrily muttering woman.

"Good morning!" she cheerfully greeted her. The woman turned, not looking happy at all. Christine nervously cleared her throat. She really should stop involving in others businesses, she inwardly chided herself. "I couldn't help but to notice the little argument you had over here a moment ago," she continued.

At that she saw the woman's eyes flash angrily. "Serves that little wretch right, trying to steal from her master!" she exhaled angrily. Christine nodded, deep in thought. The girl had looked so young and innocent.

The woman continued her rant, "Not an ounce of gratitude. The master took her in, penniless as she was, and that's how she repays him?"

Growing curious Christine asked about the mysterious master the older maid kept mention. "Who is the master of this house? What's he like?"

The older woman looked at her, now more guarded. After a moment of hesitation she answered, "He's a good man, quiet and likes to keep to himself."

Quietly an idea started to form in Christine's mind and she took another step closer. "So, you fired that other girl and now are looking for a new maid?" Her voice was anxious and excited.

The other woman nodded cautiously. "It's rather hard finding a decent girl nowadays – hardworking, yet honest," she turned and opened the gate.

"Excuse me!" Christine called before she could step inside, causing the woman to turn around a look at her quizzically.

"Yes?" she asked, after Christine didn't continue. Nervously fidgeting with her skirt, Christine held her gaze down.

"The thing is," she started explaining hurriedly, " I am, at the moment, in urgent need of a job as it is almost impossible to find one on my own. I could help you and fill that position."

The woman turned, closing the gate again and Christine felt her eyes travel across her figure. "Could you do it," she muttered to herself in doubt. "What can you do?" she then inquired.

"Well, I can clean. I know a little about sewing and I can help with the cooking." Seeing the doubt in the older woman eyes, she rushed on, "but I'm really hardworking and honest! I would never steal from anyone, especially the owner of this house." Christine looked hopefully at the woman before her.

"I'm sorry dear," she started sympathetically, "but before deciding on anything I have to consult with the master first." With that she turned, stepped through the gate and closed it.

Christine left feeling discouraged and disappointed yet again, yet she could help but feel a bit of hope in her. The older maid didn't directly refuse her and so the possibility of being hired by the woman still lingered in the air. For the next week Christine walked past that mysterious mansion every day still looking for a job. Each time she saw the woman she had talked to working outside and inside of the house, rushing around other numerous girls around ,and loudly arguing with the young stablehands. She would stop behind the gate and their eyes would meet and every time the woman would be the first to turn away her eyes and disappear into the shadows of the house.

Now a week later Christine once again returned, tired and hopeless from another futile day. What had already become a habit, she stopped by the manor looking for any familiar faces. Almost instantly she noticed the one she was looking for. This time, however, the older maid was nervously standing in front of the house and upon seeing her, quickly made her way towards the front gate where Christine stood.

"You still looking for a job?" she inquired impatiently.

Christine only nodded wordlessly.

"Then the job is yours. Be here tomorrow morning at six o'clock." Christine felt that there was something peculiar about the maid's way of acting and tone of voice, but shook off the feeling as she smiled joyfully at the older woman and quickly accepted the offered job thankfully. Her head spinning, from hunger or happiness she did not know.

The older maid seemed to have noticed Christine's uneasiness at her tone and quickly softened her face. "Don't worry, I think you have what it takes to stay here."

Before Christine could thank her once more and ask for her name, the woman quickly turned from the girl. Over her shoulder she called out, "And definitely don't be late!"

With that, the maid quietly descended into the huge manor. As Christine was walking home that evening, she slowly began to understand the amount of bizarre luck, which had found her. She smiled to herself. "Everything is going to be alright after all," she assured to the empty room and once again sat on the only remaining chair in the room.

_A/N: I __would __very much like to hear the thoughts of my dear readers, so don't hesitate and write me a short review!_

_Your Obedient Servant,_

_NightQuest  
_


	3. A Difficult Life of a Maid

**_Hello again. I'm really sorry for making you wait again. It really has been a loooong time since I last updated, but at least for now I'm back! _**

**_Sadly, after my inconvenient disappearance I haven't been able to contact my lovely beta Not-the-Norm again, so this is the last chapter written together with her:) I'm so grateful for her time and help. _**

**_I already have the next chapter READY for you as well! Exciting times are coming, Yay! I'll upload it during next week. I still have to read it over. Until then, enjoy ;P _**

**_PS: You, who'd be interested in betaing my irregular updates are more than welcome to drop me a line!_**_**  
**_

**_Disclaimer: I really don't own any of the characters you might recognise!_**

**Chapter 2 - A Difficult Life of a Maid**_  
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_It was really bright. Sun was shining through each window, casting red, blue and green shadows on the floor, making it hard to keep her eyes open. Christine smiled nervously and adjusted her dress once again. White roses and lilies sat firmly in her hands, just as she had dream as a little girl. It was all white, not a trace of red. White was the colour of innocence and purity. She wouldn't let anything or anyone taint that day. It was her day and hers alone._

_No one had turned yet and she quickly let her eyes wander over the guests. There were at least 400 people, all strangers to her. Only Meg with her mother would be here for _her_. Her hands felt sweaty as she adjusted the bouquet in her hand for the thousandth time. She then heard the organ start to play and suddenly everybody stood and turned to look at her. Terrified, she couldn't move or even turn around to run away. Until her eyes met his. _

_Instantly her posture relaxed and she forced herself to take a deep breath. His hair shone golden in the sun and his smile was dazzling. Tentatively she took a step forward. Raoul nodded encouragingly from his place at the altar and she made herself to take another step forward. She felt unfriendly and accusing eyes staring at her, boring holes in her back, and still she forced herself to move forward and smile. It was her marriage and her choice. Disapproving relatives wouldn't stop her. She was almost there, when she suddenly saw it__._

_There, amongst all the smiling people, was an empty seat. No one hadn't even notice, but she saw it right away. A blood red rose, lying untouched on the seat, amongst all the white. A black satin string neatly tied around the stem. Frantically she flipped her head, trying to find him, at the same time being afraid of actually seeing him. He had been here! The thought drummed in her head, making her vision blurry. For a second, ice cold doubt filled her veins and she stopped. Memories of past rushed through her head and breath caught in her lungs. A dark cave, red satin...a beguiling ivory mask. She gasped almost inaudibly and blinked her eyes rapidly to make the scene disappear. All the panic had only lasted for a few seconds, but to her it had seemed like an eternity._

_After a moment her eyes met the ones of his husband-to-be. She saw concern shining in Raouls light blue eyes. They almost begged her to keep moving and leave the past behind. A bit too quickly she started to walk again, willing her hands to stop trembling. Raoul face relaxed and he smiled at her. She tried to answer that glorious smile, but only managed a little twitch upwards of lips. _

_Breath whooshed out of her lungs as she felt familiar hands take her own and lead her forward. This was her choice. She smiled a little and gazed deeply in the eyes of the man she loved. This was right, this was happiness. They turned and everybody applauded. _

With a startle Christine felt herself come back to reality. She was standing in a small room, staring at her reflection from the floor length mirror. She slowly raised her hand to her cheek, feeling the wetness of fresh tears. Was that really her? When had she become so… so different? Her once lively and shining locks had almost straightened out, now being only slightly wavy. Her face looked pale and too thin, her nails broken and lips cracked. Even her large almond eyes had lost their soft roundness. Gone was the cheerful innocence, replaced by a cold calculative stare. Her whole body had been consumed and was in edge. She tasted bitterness. Barely twenty and already her life was over.

Stepping away from the mirror, she felt her stomach growl in hunger. Her breakfast had contained of a piece of stale bread and some fruit. She sighed and ran a hand over her empty stomach. It had been a long time since she had had a decent meal. Fresh tears gathered in her eyes at the thought of the last meals shared with Raoul. Angrily she wiped them away and took a deep breath. She would make it work. Her future depended on it. Now was not the time to wallow in self-pity.

Her new clothes - white linen blouse, tied in the middle with a red ribbon serving as a belt, ankle length black skirt with huge pockets on the sides and black laced shoes. Never had she imagined she would have to wear clothes of a maid. They weren't really fitting and she felt uncomfortable. The unusually rough material felt heavy against her skin.

Quickly she let her gaze once again wander around the tiny room. It contained only a bed, a little wooden table and a chair. For clothes there was a small built in wardrobe. This was the room she was going to live in. It wasn't much, but it was clean and warm. She willed herself to be grateful. Everything was better than the abandoned manor. At least she had a tiny window overlooking the huge garden filled with flowers and bushes, stretching as far as her gaze went.

Her former identity, Countess Christine de Chagny had disappeared completely, and now she was just another maid in some Dukes household. She tied her wild hair up into a ponytail and with another glance in the mirror, stepped into the hallway.

The house was huge, she had to admit that. Much larger than her previous house had been. Without knowing the way she would surely be lost. Curiosity won as she started to go along the hallway to a part of the house that seemed to be the darkest, almost abandoned. It had some kind of a strange, almost ominous feeling in it. Curtains werfe drawn over enormous windows and she spotted a huge figure looming in a corner covered in white cloth. A grand piano. Her heart skipped a beat at the reminder of a music, which once had filled her whole life.

The air and wall however contained different emotions. Christine could feel it. She had always been really sensitive about these kind of things. Laced into the darkness were something almost tender. The music sheets were organized in neat piles, speaking of a great adoration for music.

Then she heard her name being whispered and someone yanked her sleeve, hard. She gave a startled cry turning rapidly. So absorbed had she been in her thoughts, she hadn't even heard the other woman approach. Before her she saw the same woman, who had led her inside and showed her her future room.

"You are never to come here!" she hissed angrily and dragged her along. When they reached the great hall, the older woman stopped and released her slowly. Here shoulders dropped and she turned gradually. "Hello Christine," she greeted her, taking her hand and giving it a small squeeze. Her hands were cold and the handshake lasted only for a second. "My name is Adèle. Come with me, I'll show you your duties." There was a glint in her eyes that let Christine guess that she wasn't a cruel person, just extremely strict. "And don't wander off by yourself again!" she warned with a finality. Probably not an easy person to impress. She suppressed a smile and followed obediently.

As she tailed Adele, she felt her childhood memories with her father came flooding back. She almost could feel the familiar comforting hand on her shoulder telling her it was going to work out. Those few years as a Countess hadn't changed anything, she mused silently as she quickened her pace, trying not to lose the woman in front of her.

They ended up in the kitchen, where Adéle motioned over a younger girl with dark brown hair. She looked so fragile, that Christine wondered how she managed to keep up with all the hard work. "That is my daughter Agnés," she introduced her. Agnés gave her a small smile.

Christine noticed how the rest of the girls stared openly at her. Some with curiosity, some with open reluctance. She offered a small nod, deciding it'd be better to greet them later.

"Go with Agnés, she'll show you where the things you'll need. Start with doing the laundry and hang it outside to dry." With that, the older woman turned and disappeared into the endless hallways. It was so different being at the receiving end of orders for once, instead of giving them, she mused and turned to follow Agnés. She seemed nice, but there was some stiffness in her step. Was it because of her? The last thing she wanted was to anger the rest of the staff.

But Agnés silently motioned Christine to follow and her shoulders relaxed a bit, as she turned into the opposite direction. They stepped into a long hallway and Christine gasped, as they past rooms yet unfamiliar to her. Just as she opened her mouth to let out the words of awe, Agnes quickly turned and stopped her. "The Master has made it clear that this part of the house must be kept completely silent," she whispered, then turned and quickly moved on.

Christine nodded dumbly, but followed. Still, she couldn't help, but to silently marvel the rooms. They were huge and beautiful. Usually rich people tended to over decorate and add unfitting furniture, ruining all the beauty of the individual pieces. She grimaced at the memories of the awful combinations she had come to know as high class features. But this house was different. A lot different.

Every detail, every piece of furniture, was chosen individually to match the others. Massive mahogany desk sat in perfect harmony with light leather armchair. As she involuntary stopped she noticed that two angels were holding up the table, each feature carefully carved out. Beautiful paintings hung on the walls and lit candles were placed in each room. Everything was perfectly balanced.

Shaking her head, Christine picked up her pace and hurried after Agnés. She hadn't even slowed down. Suddenly she stopped and turned, for the first time facing Christine fully. The skin was stretched over her cheekbones and there were dark circles around her eyes. She looked tired.

"Backyard is right in front of you. At the end on the hallway turn left. Use the buckets next to the doors," she whispered hurriedly and turned, disappearing just as her mother had done. Christine smirked at the similarities between mother and daughter, but slowly went on. She would talk to her once she had time, she promised herself.

She squinted, as the sudden sunlight momentarily blinded her, and then gasped. In front of her was a mountainfull of bedsheets, blankets, tablecloths, towels, everything. All seemed spotless and gleaming white. Puzzled, she moved closer. These were definitely the items, she was supposed to wash. Was that some kind of a test, she wondered. None of them had been used. They even smelled fresh.

Giving a curt nod, she dragged one of the buckets closer and started with a smaller bed sheet. She hissed as hot water burned her hands. Astonished, she stared her now bright red hands. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes as she forced her burning hands to work faster. She couldn't imagine doing it every day, yet it was only a beginning.

She sighed in relief, as she dumped the last piece of clothing into the heap of newly washed clothes. Basically she had just given them a quick soak and only couple had needed a more thorough wash. After crouching on the ground for hours, she felt her back protest as she stood too quickly. White flashed before her eyes as she staggered to find support.

Taking deep breaths she gazed up at the sky and the huge manor towering above her. Even in the sunlight it seemed sinister. Gargoyles she hadn't noticed before seemed to stare at her, faces set into wicked grimaces. She gasped as one of the windows was thrown open and a graceful hand hovered over the windowsill for a moment. Two ravens gave startled cry's and circled over the roof.

She quickly hanged the sheets to dry and almost ran for the door. Once inside, she instantly chided herself for being such a coward, but again, only shivers ran down her spine. Too much did they remind her of the leering shapes on the Opera houses roof. They still haunted her dreams, mockingly calling her back…

Slowly she wandered back the way they had come with Agnés earlier. This time however she let her eyes wander over all the wanders on the walls and on multiple shelves. Lovingly she traced the expensive tapestries. She again stopped when she reached the room with the angel desk. The door was almost closed, only a golden stripe of a lit chimney illuminating the hallway. Hesitating only a second, she stepped inside.

It was a library. Paintings that earlier had seemed bright and beautiful, turned out to be of demons slaying angels, speaking of torment, loss and despair. Bloodied bodies lay on the clouds some almost falling down. The ground was filled with flames and grotesque figures, sharp teeth gleaming in terrifying grins. Christine took a step back, turning away from the evil looking images.

Stacks filled with hundreds of books covered the walls from floor to ceiling. Stepping closer she read some of the names. She recognized only some of the authors, like Dante or Platon. After a while she stopped and pulled out a book in black leather clad. The poems of Edgar Allan Poe. Christine smirked. How perfectly fitting. She had loved Poe when she was younger. It had been dark and mesmerizing, holding the illusion of dark hero and romance. Involuntary chill ran down her spine.

Moving closer to the lit chimney she cautiously sat behind the desk. Again she stared at the angels supporting the table. Something was different from the usual chubby cherubs she was used to seeing in church. This one looked…afraid? Intrigued, Christine lowered herself to look closer. The look in its eyes was desperate and the she saw. What she had assumed to be another heavenly creature was a little boy with horns, wicked grin plastered on his face. He seemed to chasing the little angel, and Christine almost felt the terror of this everlasting torment, the angel boy must be feeling.

Something slid by her feet and she gave a small cry and jumped up. Behind her chair was an ink black cat, lazily licking at its paw. Pressing her hand against wildly beating heart, she sat down again. Even the cat was beautiful, smooth and shining, obviously very well taken care of. Confidently the cat crossed the room and hopped on a chair beside the chimney. Yellow eyes followed Christine lazily as she focused her gaze once again on the book in front of her. Is that how everything really was. The first impression leaves you amazed and wanting more, but in the end turns out to be the exact opposite, consuming you in the process. Like with that house. What had first seemed to be a beautiful castle, slowly changed into a desolate and depressing sanctuary for disguised evil.

Lovingly she traced over the golden print. She had once owned a copy herself. The last gift from her beloved father, which now lay abandoned and destroyed in the de Chagny manor. The pages were well worn, she noticed as her eyes scanned over the familiar lines. Memories rushed back at times together with her family. Peaceful night spent reading old fairy tales, fire flaring in chimney, radiating warmth and golden glow. Her father's low voice painting pictures of princes and princesses and eternal happiness.

A silent tear slid down her cheek and abrupt anguish washed over her. Gasping for air she squeezed her eyes shut, her knuckles turning white. Everything she had ever wanted she had had, and now it was all gone forever. Home, family, friends. Everything. She gazed at the spot on the table, willing her heart to start pounding. A stack of empty parchment set on one corner, beside it was an expensive looking inkwell was shaped like raven. It was beautiful. Every detail was chosen specifically to match others.

Suddenly her eyes perked up. She grabbed an empty sheet and a quill, letting out all she had wanted to say to her father since things turned bad. Every regret she had, every feeling missed, every secret desire that she hadn't even dared to confess to Raoul. The words flew out of her like a song, quickly filling up a whole parchment. Ink drops fell on the sheet and table, smearing her hand and paper, leaving ugly black marks. She hardly noticed, her hand flying, movements familiar.

Finished, she was emotionally and physically drained. Fighting the sleep, she folded her letter and staggered up. The fire had died down and she shuddered at the chilly air. Suddenly gasping, she snapped back to the present. How long had she been gone? The cat was watching her with glowing eyes and yawned. Christine frowned, hurriedly stuffed the book back at the self and ran for the kitchen. So engrossed was she with her fear of facing Adele and explaining her disappearance that she never noticed her precious letter sliding out of her pocket and softly landing on the plush Persian carpet.

**A/N: Once again please let me know your thoughts and ideas! I really try my best with this story, but I can not read minds. Constructive criticism and fresh ideas are always wanted and welcomed! So, REVIEW!**


	4. A Friend

**Hey guys! I'm back with the next chapter as promised. I had tons of fun writing this one! Anyway, I tried my best catching all those mistakes, yet I feel there are more -_- **

**As for the next chapter, I'm still only halfway done. I'm opened to any suggestions and ideas!  
**

**Chapter 3 - A Friend**

Christine was frantic. However many times she looked she didn't find it. Her letter! All her bottled up bitterness and feelings – now at the mercy of a total stranger. Or even worse! Adele might find it, or one of the girls. What had she been thinking, writing down everything that should never even be spoken about?

At first she had been too terrified to even move. She couldn't imagine facing Adele after the older woman had read it. She would be fired instantly and then would have nowhere to go. They would find her and she would die! She lay on the floor hyperventilating, her heartbeat drumming. She pressed her head between her knees and forced her body to breath normally.

Slowly her practical mind took over and she managed to calm down. She would find it. Even if anyone read it, she hadn't written any names. A rather useful quality she had picked up from her new paranoid family. Every piece of information you wrote down could be used against you – mantra she had heard from morning til evening every day. Right now she was tremendously grateful for it.

After facing furious Adele the night before, she had been ordered to go straight to her room and stay there. Like a child she complied, hung her head and waited for the verdict. She had almost given up all hope of a response and started to get ready for bed, when she heard a knock. Surprisingly it was Agnes. Her huge watery eyes stared at Christine as she wordlessly handed her a few pieces of bread and cheese. Christine felt her eyes well up at the simple gesture and quickly turned to hide the unwanted tears. For a second she felt a light touch on her shoulder and then it was gone.

The food stayed untouched as she set them on a table and fell sobbing on the bed. Her body rocked silently as she wept. She cried for lost chances, for all the misgivings that had fallen recently on her and of her own stupidity and carelessness . For everything that had gone wrong in her life. And then she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The morning found Christine with swollen eyes and aching back, but she felt a lot better and calmer. A little evening cry really does help, she wondered, gazing down at the garden. She was absentmindedly munching on her bread slice when she noticed some of the bushes move. First she saw a black tail, then the rest of the cat materialised. Slowly it appeared behind a rosebush. For a minute it just stood there, tail flailing from side to side and then, sharply turning its head, it stared right back at her. Christine almost choked on her bread.

After a long minute it presumed its walk, only stopping every once in a while to lick its paws. Mesmerised, her gaze followed the cats path until it reached the far corner of the house, disappearing completely. She found herself thinking about the mysterious man of the house. Adele had told her, she would meet him in time. It was obvious, the older woman held a great respect for her reclusive Master. She brushed off the remaining crumbles on her shirt and thought back on the library, tohe controversial images of angels and demons, of joy and torment.

He definitely had to be an intelligent and educated man. She knew, he had a good taste in furnishing and liked to read. She let her mind wander, trying to picture a man fitting this house. Suddenly her heart skipped a beat. What if he recognised her, the wife of a deceased Count? No. She didn't even recognise herself, let alone an acquaintance. With a startle she was reminded of the book and her fateful letter. Instantly, her hand went to her pocket in search of it. And her heart dropped.

She forced her feet to move slowly, inside aching to run as fast as she could. Reaching kitchen, she nodded timidly, her eyes grazingover all the faces, some familiar and some new. Adele wasn't here. Holding her breath she waited for someone to say something, revealing her dark secretes. The quiet talk had stopped once she entered, but as quickly as that, it picked up again, even more excited than before. With almost relief, she recognised it – gossip, in its purest form.

Letting out a sigh of relief she turned and made her way towards the library. It had to be there! Her feet picked up a silent jog and after a minute she yanked open the door to the library, breath coming out in quiet gasps. It was so different from the last time that for a moment she wondered if she was in a wrong room. The candles and fireplace were out, leaving only shadows roaming around walls. Even the curtains were draped over the windows, leaving only a crack of light illuminating the empty room. But it was enough for Christine, she saw. There was no letter.

Dazed, she sat down on an empty chair in kitchen. Her brain refused to work. How could it be? Adele had rushed past her and only acknowledged her enough to press out her morning duties. Dumbfounded she had obeyed. It was possible, that it had been taken as trash and thrown out. From the bottom of her heart, she hoped it to be so.

* * *

She yelped, when a cold hand grasped her shoulder. Whirling around, she was met by a peculiar face, only inches from hers. She stumbled backwards, sloshing some water on the floor in the process. He looked young, with round brown eyes and tanned skin. If he hadn't been covered in dirt she might have called him even handsome. But right now he was looking at her curiously. "You must be new here?" His voice was warm and soothing, with hint of eastern-European accent. "You know, you have been scrubbing the same spot for already half an hour. I was watching you." His eyes glinted as he grinned.

"Who…?" She didn't even get to finish before he thrust out his muddy hand. "My name's Gerard. I work at the stables." "Uh, I'm Christine," she stuttered out, still not sure how to react. "So, what's on your mind," he continued, his eyes boring into hers. That snapped Christine out of her shock. "Nothing, just a bit tired I guess. I just started yesterday." "I see." Was the only response and Christine searched his eyes once again for a hint of his intentions. "Come out to the back, once you're finished," he said, before hopping up and rushing away.

Christine couldn't help but to stare after him, a small smile on her lips. What a weird boy, but he had managed to cheer her up a bit. What if he knew something? She quickly finished scrubbing the rest of the Halls floor and run outside. Once again she was blinded by the bright light. She raised her hand to her eyes, searching for any sign of Gerard, her new friend.

Finally she saw him sitting in the shade under an old oak. His eyes were shut. Christine stopped, unsure if to wake him or leave quietly. However, his eyes snapped open as If feeling her distress and he smiled again, revealing his white teeth. With a wiggle of his finger, he beckoned her closer. He had washed up, she noticed, his hair was still wet, occasional drops of water falling to the ground. She cautiously moved closer and he patted the grass beside him. "Sit." Was his only answer to her searching eyes. She hesitated, but soon curiosity won over and she dropped on the lush grass beside the stableboy.

His smile widened and his opened his palm. A sweetroll. She stared at his lap a minute before bursting out laughing. She hid her face in her hands as she let her body enjoy the comfort of a simple laugh. He didn't say anything, only observed her curiously. Her eyes sparkled as she accepted the pastry. It was delicious, soft and sweet. "Thank you. I needed that." "I guessed that much." They settled into comfortable silence and she closed her eyes. The autumn air was still warm against her bare arms as she listened to the leaves quietly rustle above her.

Opening her eyes she first noticed the chill. Not again, her mind screamed. Gerard was gone, but it fortunately still seemed to be only late afternoon. She struggled upwards and groaned as her abused back protested. Something fell from her lap and puzzled she looked down. Her heart leaped to her throat and then stopped. At least it seemed so. A letter! On the grass laid a white piece of parchment neatly folded together. She dropped to her knees and gingerly picked it up. Her face fell a little. It wasn't hers.

Her fingers shook as she opened the letter. Only couple of short sentences were scribbled in black ink over the paper.

_I don't think your life is over._

_Against all the misfortunes you're still alive, aren't you? You have the will to survive and make everything better. Believe in yourself and just keep on living._

_A Friend_

Her heartbeat had picked up again at the note. She bit down on her fist to keep from screaming. Someone _had_ read her this certain someone didn't seem to be interested in telling the rest of the world about it. She jumped up, grasping the paper fiercely in her hand and ran around the corner. Could it have been Gerard? Why hadn't he said anything? Adele? She quickly dismissed the idea as impossible. The older woman would never go through such lengths to tell her she knew. Agnes? Could it be? She had looked at her strangely yesterday, even bringing her some food.

Her eyes scanned the empty area. Whoever it was knew where to find her. Her thought went back to her strange new friend. This time she tucked the letter into her bodice, making sure not to repeat her mistake. Strangely enough Adele hadn't seemed to notice her absence, which Christine was greatly thankful for. She didn't think her poor heart could take much more.

She had missed lunch but she wouldn't have eaten anyway. Adele told her to assist one of the girls, she introduced as Camille, in cleaning out an old cupboard in farther corner of the house. They ascended the hallway in silence, but she could feel the tension. She cleared her throat nervously and quickened her pace falling in step with the other girl. "I'm Christine," she introduced herself in hopefully cheerful voice. Camille didn't even acknowledge her and Christine frowned. "I started here yesterday, I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself, it's been quite hectic." At that she turned, her blond hair flowing around her. Her pretty lips curling into EBASOBIV sneer.

"How could I not know? Everybody knows _you_." Christine felt a pang of panic and rushed after Camille. "What do you mean?

"Don't you pretend to be innocent!" Camille only seemed to get angrier. "I know your kind well enough. As the rest of us works our hands off, you," she stopped, catching herself, and curtly turned.

With that the discussion was finished and they carried out the rest of the task in silence. Christine was even more puzzled than before. What exactly had she done wrong? If she hadn't been so deep in thought, the biting silence would have been awkward, but she let her mind wonder and they finished quickly. Camille didn't even look at her when she grabbed her things and left.

The kitchen was alive with voices as everybody ate dinner. Nobody even glanced at her this time. She picked up her plate and uncertainly run her eyes over the room. Suddenly her eyes caught Agnes's. She released her breath and hurried towards the free seat next to her. The petite brunette didn't seem to fit in as well, she noticed absentmindedly.

They were halfway through dinner when Christine couldn't wait anymore. She put down her fork and faced Agnes expectantly. "Has anything happened recently I don't know about?" The other girl raised her eyes, her gaze carefully guarded. "What do you mean?" Christine turned her gaze back to her cooling dinner, fingers fidgeting restlessly with her skirt and quickly told Agnes about her little conversation with Camille.

"Oh," her eyes cleared, "the Master told personally to Adele to hire you, so everyone kind of knew you before already." Christine shut her mouth with an audible snap and Agnes gave a little laugh at her expression. "We were surprised as well, it has never happened before. He never talks to any of us. Only with my mom and even then if he needs something. "

"Oh," Was her only response, as she resumed eating her now cold dinner. With every new piece of information, things only managed to get more complicated.

They kept up a light conversation about their day and Agnes even laughed a little, she looked so much younger then. However, when Christine finally mentioned Gerard she saw the other girl immediately stiffen. She avoided meeting her eyes and left the table as soon as she had finished.

Walking up to her room for the night she felt lighter, finally knowing the reason for the rest of the households' disapproval. However, it only raised more questions. Why would the reclusive landlord care about her? Yet, the biggest worry in her mind stayed the mysterious letter. A friend.

Christine smiled at the term. It had been a while, since she had used that word. Raoul had been her best friend as well as a lover. She could share with him her ideas and together they'd stay up til late hours discussing different possibilities. In the opera house she had had some friends she could talk about clothes and music.

Nonetheless, there had been things she could share with no one. Thoughts that kept her up, when her husband was long asleep. Memories, which made her rise hours before sun and wander in the empty house. Feelings, which forced open her lungs and sing secretly. Chills ran down her spine. Once there had been such a friend. Understanding and caring, urging her on, putting heart to ease.

She bolted up from her bed. However hard she tried, memories of her past always managed to sneak up on her. She couldn't sleep. Pulling a light robe over her nightgown she creaked open the door and listened. Silence, everybody must be asleep. She lighted the candle and tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen. It was quiet as well. Holding her breath, she pressed her ear against the library door. Hearing nothing, she stepped inside. Her candle was the only source of light in the room, reflecting back from the gleaming surface.

Cautiously she set down the candle and sat behind the desk. The leather was cold to the touch and she curled her knees under her, shuddering. Once again she grabbed an empty parchment and quill.

This time the letter was a lot harder to write. She didn't even know how to start. What should she say?

_Dear friend. Thank you for caring. _She snorted at the ridiculousness of the idea. After half an hour of gnawing on the quill she decided to write about the events of the past two days. Just to see, if this "friend" was more than one letter. And it was nice to tell someone all the hardships she had had to face. Chores, she had never had to do in her life, other girls hating her, about Agnes and Gerard and finally about the secretive owner of the enormous mansion.

Finished, she sighed and her eyes slid over the long sentences. It worked like a therapy. She already felt lighter. Christine smiled to herself and folded the paper in half. The flame faltered and sent a shadow over the table. Her head whipped up, eyes searching the darkness. When she saw no further movements, she stood and gingerly placed the letter on the desk again. Whoever will be in the receiver end of this bizarre interaction would know to look for it here.

She stepped into the hallway, feeling better then she had for a long time. She was skipping down the hallway when she suddenly saw two gleaming right in front of her. She let out a scream, then catching herself and pressed a hand on her mouth. The eyes blinked and the cat stepped forward. Her heart slowing she knelt down. "Oh kitty, you almost gave me a heart attack," she whispered, petting the cats head. The only response was a loud purring sound and the cat closed its eyes, enjoying the contact. Christine smiled to herself. The furball was adorable, leaning into her touch.

Finally the cat seemed to have had enough and stood, walking past her into the darkness. She followed it with her gaze, her hands around her. The candle flickered again and suddenly she was left into darkness. She silently cursing, she chided herself for not bringing matches with her and blindly felt her way back upstairs. She never noticed another set of golden brown eyes watching her from the darkness.

**A/N: And that's it for this time. How was it? Please DO let me know, mmkaay!** **Your reviews are what keep me going!**


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